


You Always Got A Shoulder

by DoctorFitzy (KittooningMalijah)



Series: Take It Out On Me [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 1x07 the Hub, Canon Divergent, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, and Hand is there, take it out on me au, team mom and dad make tiny cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:57:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittooningMalijah/pseuds/DoctorFitzy
Summary: There was no extraction plan, no one but themselves to get them out of the mess that SHIELD had made, and maybe there was a bit of added comfort that came from facing certain death with someone who knew everything about him.





	

          At the rate they were moving, he wasn’t at all surprised when he felt Fitz collide with him from behind, but their speed wouldn’t help them much when they had upwards of a dozen guns trained on them. With no extraction, they were almost certainly going to end up dead, especially when they had no way to communicate a plan even if they could come up with one in the first place. Between them, Ward was the only one who was properly field trained, and while the Scotsman had been able to hold his own against the guards inside, there was no safe, higher ground to send him to. Outside, they were vulnerable and exposed, and even with the device that could take out weapons at their disposal, it wouldn’t do much for them in a fire fight, not when they didn’t have any way to be on the offensive.

          Moving slowly so that none of the men around them had any reason to react with gunfire, he put himself in front of the scientist as much as possible. He’d made a promise to protect Fitz, and he intended to keep that promise, no matter how much danger he had to put himself in to do so. There were two missions to complete – get the Overkill Device out of enemy hands, and look out for one half of the Bus’s resident genius duo. Maybe, even if it meant giving himself up, he could do both of those things. If he was a good enough distraction, Fitz could get away with the device and contact SHIELD as soon as he got somewhere safe, and everything would be taken care of. All it would take is one perfectly coordinated moment.

          Before he could even try to convey a potential plan of action, he felt a shove to the middle of his back and then only barely caught sight of the Scot trying to dart away out of the corner of his eye. Acting quickly, he reached out to grab the nearest gear-clad arm and drag him back. In a matter of seconds, they were both behind a metal pillar, Ward using his body to make sure his partner _stayed_ right where he was supposed to.

          “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The words came out in a hiss, and he felt the smaller man flinch when bullets started to hit the metal he was backed up against. He didn’t need to be a genius to know that they didn’t have long before they would be shot at directly, so he had to make his orders quick. “Get that device out again and take out whatever weapons you can. I will take on all then men I can, but as soon as you have an opening, you _run,_ do you understand? I promise, no matter what happens, I will make sure you get out of here.”

          “What? No, I—“

          “ _Fitz_.” His tone was harsher, then, meant to convey just how pressed they were for time. “Do as I say or we’ll _both_ end up dead. _Now_.”

          The scientist’s hands were shaking while he got the backpack off his shoulders, managing an unsteady nod of his head. This wasn’t training, or a test – this was _real_. They had one chance to pull this off, and if they did, their mission would be a success, but if they didn’t… There was still a chance that SHIELD might not come out victorious at the end of this battle. And they couldn’t let that happen.

* * *

 

          “What the hell do you mean there was no extraction plan?”

          “It’s exactly what it sounds like, Agent Coulson.” Victoria Hand barely spared him a glance while looking at all of the screens in front of her. It was clear that she was paying more attention to the plans for future missions than the conversation he wanted her to be a part of. “Agents Fitz and Ward were sent out on a mission, and everything went according to plan, and SHIELD’s official involvement in their personal activity is over. The rest of our men were needed for the attack on the compound; we don’t have the manpower to pick up two agents who knew that the field can be an extremely dangerous place.”

          He took pointed steps toward her, all but demanding her attention by staying within her line of sight no matter how she turned. “They should have been _told_ there was no extraction before going in. I am more than aware of the secrets this organization has to keep on a regular basis, but keeping something like this from our own agents? They should know important details about their own mission.”

          “ _Agent Coulson._ ” Her harsh tone was enough to quiet him, and full minutes passed while she walked around the room. She had plans to verify, and an attack to oversee – a discussion about a mission that was a complete success and _over with_ was not at the top of her list of priorities. When she did finally speak, she still wasn’t looking at him, watching over her subordinates. “Like I said, SHIELD’s official involvement in their mission is over. If you’re so sure they need an extraction, arrange it yourself.”

* * *

 

          In a way, they’d pulled off a miracle. The entire mission was a mess – at least, that was what Ward thought about it. With no extraction, it was possibly the most dangerous mission he’d ever been on, and the likelihood of one or both of them ending up dead was far too high for his comfort level. It _had_ to be some miracle that let them do what they did, and he wouldn’t accept any other explanation for it. They’d gotten out _alive_ and in one piece. For the most part.

          As two able-bodied men, they would have been somewhere safe by nightfall, but while most bullets either missed or only grazed them, there were some that hit their targets. Fitz was limping, trying to keep weight off his injured ankle while simultaneously working to support most of the American’s body with his shoulders. Thanks to SHIELD’s attack, they were able to flee when more of the men at the compound got distracted, but it had come at a cost, especially when they were spotted again. The bullets had practically come out of nowhere, but were mostly way off their mark – with some exceptions. The Scotsman had been able to _see_ the shot aimed for him, though he’d been pushed out of the way at just the right moment, the bullet instead embedding itself into Ward’s shoulder. They’d been able to run for a while, but they both knew that the pain would be too much, eventually, and had been proven correct when the specialist all but collapsed while the sun was still high in the sky.

          By the time night fell, they were still only a few miles from the compound, and the only thing they could use as a makeshift shelter for rest was a drainage pipe. If he looked into the puddle of melted snow, Fitz could see a floating plastic bag, and that was enough to tell him exactly where they were. But he wasn’t thinking of his lost sandwich or how long it would take to get somewhere _really_ safe while his fingers went numb in the cold water, he was just trying to wash the blood from his skin. It was pointless when he’d just have to go wrap the wound to stave off infection and end up with even more blood on his hands, but it helped him clear his mind and focus, and that was exactly what he needed to do. He was no good to anyone if he was panicking.

          Besides, as soon as he got some rest, they could start moving again, and he could make sure Ward got somewhere safe.

* * *

 

          It was too cold to risk sleep, with the dampness of the pipe and the below freezing temperature outside, not to mention the fact that Fitz had given up his jacket. There was a wound to be patched up, and there weren’t many options for material to do that with. If he had to give up a layer just to make sure his friend stayed _alive_ , he’d make the sacrifice for a night. Shivering, he tried to press himself into the American’s uninjured side, desperate for any kind of warmth he could find. He felt like he’d been huddled for hours, staring out at the snow, when an arm went around his shoulders, hugging him closer. It was for survival, the scientist knew that, but he leaned into the touch regardless, letting out a happy sigh. The air around them was cold, but even the slightest hint of body heat was the best thing he’d ever felt.

          “Talk to me. If we fall asleep, we die. Talk. Stay awake.”

          The sound of Ward’s voice kept him from drifting off, but there was no denying that he was exhausted, and thinking was slow. It came with the settling in hypothermia, not that he could say even that much through chattering teeth. “T-t-t-too… t-too… c-c-c… t-too c-cold…”

          A sigh came from the body next to him, and the arm around his shoulders pulled him closer. The heat that came with the close quarters was nice, but it still wasn’t quite enough – it didn’t make the cold go away, and it didn’t stop his shivering, either. “My shoulder… we’re sitting in a _sewer_ , Fitz… you did an okay job of wrapping it up, but it _will_ get infected if we stay here for too long… we sleep, we both die… talk… keep yourself alive…”

          Something about the choice of words made the Scotsman pause, shaking his head after a moment with a deep frown. “N-not j-j-just m-me… You n-need to st-stay awake, t-too…” He could tell almost immediately that the specialist was going to argue, so he hurried to speak up again quickly. “If-if I make it out of- out of here f-first, I’ll have to face b-border pat-p-patrol on my own… I’d end up d-dead, anyway…” There was silence after that, and Fitz let it hang in the air for almost a full minute before saying anything else. “W-what would I ev-even t-talk about…? It’s n-not like I kn-know any g-g-good st-stories…” They were quiet again, and a shift in position told him exactly why being close to Ward made for a much more comfortable temperature. If the feeling of his head through almost an inch of curls was that warm, he could only imagine what direct contact would feel like. “It’s already infected…”

          “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice…” The engineer scoffed but was cut off before he could form a proper response. “Like I said… we’re sitting in a sewer… wrapping it up can only do so much… keep yourself awake until the sun comes up again, and then get the device as far away from here as you can… get somewhere safe and contact SHIELD… they’ll get you back to the team in one piece…”

          Fitz shook his head quickly, leaning closer as if to try to make his point. “Not without y-you…”

          “Fitz—“

          “ _No_.” His voice was firmer, and it silenced his partner immediately. Of the two of them, the Scot was the least likely to raise his voice, in any situation, which meant it was more than clear that he meant business. “I said I was going to stay with you, and I meant it. We were sent on this mission t- _together_ , and I’m g-going to make sure we c-com b-b-back from it the same way.” Taking a slow breath, he nodded his head once when silence hung between them again. “Alright. So we n-need to find a way t-to k-keep us both awake, yeah? There’s this… it’s a game, kind of… one of us starts a story, and then we go back and forth t-telling the next p-parts…” When he didn’t get a response for a few moments, Fitz shook his head with a weaker frown. “Jemma d-dragged me int-to taking a c-creative writing elective at the Academy… we d-don’t have to do that if you d-don w-want to…”

          The silence hung around longer, then, and the scientist was almost asleep by the time an almost groggy American voice cut through the cold air. “Once upon a time, there was a prince, locked away in an upside down tower, and he was never allowed to leave. His brother—“

          “Wait.” Just as disoriented, a head full of curly hair shook quickly. “What’s an upside down tower?”

          With a sigh, the specialist next to him mumbled a response. “It’s like a tower, but _upside down_. Instead of being tall, it goes deeper underground.”

          “Then it’s not a _tower_.”

          “Fitz—“

          “If it’s underground, it’s like a tunnel, or a cavern – oh! Or, if it’s just one tunnel straight down, ti’s either a pit or a well. Is there water at the bottom?”

          “ _Fitz_. Just let me tell the story.”

          “ _Fine_.”

          Another sigh came from Ward next to him, and he actually tried to huddle closer while the story continued. “He was locked away there by his brothers, because he was the favorite of the three princes. His oldest brother, Chr—… _Carter_ , thought that, if everyone believed he was dead, he wouldn’t be the favorite anymore.” There was a pause while he took a deep breath, and a quick glance told Fitz that he was staring straight ahead, not actually seeing anything. “Carter was wrong, of course, and his other brother… Geoff, knew it. _He_ knew that the youngest prince, the favorite prince – his name is Travis – would _always_ be the favorite. Now, Carter, he wanted to be king, and, because he was the oldest, it was going to happen anyway, but he wanted Travis out of the way _for good_.” Ward took another slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut before continuing. “So, Travis’s brothers kept him in the _upside down tower_ for… far too long. Geoff, he hated his older brother, so he went against the rules, and helped Travis…”

          When he stopped again, he stayed quiet, and it was up to the Scot to break the silence, entirely ignoring how the _game_ was supposed to be played. “What happened? To the princes – what did Carter do when he found out what Geoff did?”

          “What happened, is…” He took a deep breath, turning his head to look down at the smaller man next to him. “Today, _Carter_ is… a senator; I haven’t spoken to _Travis_ in years, and _Geoff_ … has an infected bullet wound, and is most likely going to die, right here in this pipe…”

          Silence fell between them, and, this time, neither of them interrupted it.

* * *

 

          Using the Bus’s main computer, Skye scanned through every detail of the mission that Coulson had access to. They had coordinates, and troop arrangements, and approximate times. It seemed like the only information they _didn’t_ have was the location they needed – the location leading to their boys. Nearly thirty six hours had passed since they’d officially gone missing in action, and it was thirty six hours too long. They had to at least find _some_ sign of them before she could even think about giving up. A third of their team was missing, and the rest of them were slowly starting to lose their minds. Who knew that too little testosterone in a room could agitate someone like too much could? Taking a deep breath, she typed in the coordinates of their last known location and pulled up SHIELD’s most recent satellite images from the area. Maybe, if she could figure out which direction they’d headed, it would make their search easier.

          Before their first image could load onto the large screen in front of her, a red box flashed over it, demanding clearance from someone that didn’t have a bracelet that shut down most electronics. With a groan, she turned around to look over at the sleeping scientist who refused to leave the room. It made sense that Jemma was worried, her _best friend_ was missing, but at least when she was asleep, she wasn’t constantly asking questions about the information they still didn’t have. Maybe a nap was in order, if only because Skye had been doing nonstop work and couldn’t get anywhere else until another member of the team was awake.

* * *

 

          “Fitz…?” Even he knew his voice was weaker than it had been only an hour before, but different parts of his mind were at war. Ward wanted a question answered, and he had to ask it to get as much. The problem was that half of him didn’t want to get that far, didn’t want to put himself in a vulnerable position. Asking the question meant admitting that they wouldn’t make it out of there, or at least that he wouldn’t. It meant accepting that death was finally catching up with him after two days in a drainage pipe. So, when he got a hum in response, he was hesitant, taking an unsteady breath and trying to block out the pain in his shoulder. “That… that getting out of here together thing… you still mean it…?”

          He could see the Scot’s frown out of the corner of his eye, and there was a moment of silence before he heard an accented reply. “I promised to take care of you, yeah? That’s not going to change any time soon.”

          As much as he knew the words were meant to be a comfort, they only made him more anxious. No matter how much of his past was in his SHIELD file, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that _all of it_ was there, most of it was too cruel to put on paper – funny that it took an infection making him delusional for him to realize it. But _someone_ should know all of it, besides himself, even if that someone was facing certain death with him. “Then I want to tell you some more stories…”

          There was a beat of silence before Fitz nodded, looking up at him with a small frown still in place. He almost seemed _concerned_ , if the specialist was reading him correctly. “Okay…”

          Ward nodded his own head, taking a slow, unsteady breath while gathering the courage to find his voice. “The story, last night, about the princes… my younger brother, Thomas, was always my mother’s favorite… she yelled at him less… never really yelled at him at all, actually… Christian hated it, and so did I, but I hated him more… he refused to do his own dirty work, so he threatened me into doing it for him… it was a bunch of little things, mostly – a push or shove, grabbing my arm to make a point… the bruises were never anywhere visible, of course; he was smarter than that…”

          The story wasn’t over, and they both knew it, but the extended silence was the perfect opening for a question or two, and he wasn’t at all surprised when the engineer took advantage of that fact. “So… was it a pit or a well…?”

          Any other time, the question would have upset him, any reminder of the event would, but, for once, he didn’t mind it. Just then, the question meant that he didn’t have to give as many details – if they ever got the chance to talk again, he’d have to remember to thank his friend’s genius brain for making his life easier. “It was a well… I threw down a rope when Christian wasn’t looking…”

          The next silence that hung between them was shorter, and only a few moments passed before it was interrupted. “You’re a good brother…”

          There had never been an instance where four words had meant so much, and Ward knew he had dehydration to thank for the fact that it wasn’t completely obvious how much impact the words had on him. The sentiment sounded so _sincere_ coming from the scientist he barely knew, and it took him that much longer to find the energy to speak again. “No one’s ever said that about me before…”

          “Then they clearly haven’t heard that story.” There was no hesitation before Fitz spoke, his words firm despite the cold air around them. “I mean, you had t-to be threatened in-into doing anything in the first place, and you ob-obviously went against w-what Christian wanted b-by tossing a rope in. That was a risk – you c-c-could have been hurt for doing it, b-but you helped him anyway.” Silence fell again, stuttered breathing the only sound in the dark for a long moment before he spoke again, his voice quieter. “And… and you took a b-bullet for me… and jumped out of a p-plane for Simmons… y-you put yours-yourself at risk for us, too… I haven’t thanked you for that yet…”

          Ward shook his head with a small frown, doing his best to cut in quickly. “You don’t have to—“

          “But I _do_.”

          “ _No_ , you don’t. Until you make it out of this alive, don’t you dare thank me for anything.”

          They were quiet again for a while, until the Scot started to drift off, hurrying to say something before he fell asleep. “You don’t happen to have any stories with happy endings up your sleeve, do you?”

          A laugh shook the specialist while he shook his head, a bitter smile pulling at his lips. “Sorry to disappoint.”

* * *

 

          “I’ve found evidence that Fitz and Ward headed south from the compound. The pictures aren’t very clear, unfortunately, but they’re both alive, and we know they didn’t get too far, or else they would have contacted us.”

          They all stared at the blurry satellite image on the screen while the team’s resident hacker spoke, pulling up a map to go alongside it. It was the middle of the night, but all four of the current members of the team had gathered without complaint. No one wanted to mention any of the terrifying _what ifs_ that came with the lack of contact, but they were all aware of what it could mean, and the tension in the air made that obvious. Their time to get to their boys was running out, and even a lead didn’t make them all that hopeful. Everyone stayed quiet while Skye zoomed in, pointing out a potential path.

          “There’s no real shelter between the compound and the border, at least not the way they went. I’ve found a few places they could have hidden out in, but there aren’t a whole lot of caves in the area – basically, we still have nothing, but our best bet is to start about a mile from the compound and work our way outward.”

          No one hesitated before nodding their heads, and there was barely any quiet at all before May spoke up. “Wheels up in ten. I can get us there by morning.”

* * *

 

          He’d never been so afraid and hopeless in his life, and with the dwindling chances of help coming along, he knew the feeling was going to stick around. The plan had always been to get some rest and then keep moving until they could get somewhere safe, but with the subzero temperatures making a nap a death sentence, they’d never been able to follow through. It had led to two and a half days being spent in a dirty pipe, a very infected bullet wound, and an unconscious specialist who he was supposed to take care of. He was a terrible field agent. Maybe it was fair that his first real field mission ended in a way he could never come back from – the universe was letting him know that he wasn’t cut out for field work, no question, and he was hearing it loud and clear. If, by some miracle, he got out of there alive, he would never go on another mission again, though he highly doubted that would ever be a problem.

          Fitz had been watching the skies turn from blue and gray to orange, pink, and black while the sun went down, desperately clinging to any optimistic thought that crossed his mind. Someone must be looking for them, and they’d show up at any second to take them away to somewhere safe. Their team was only a few minutes out, it was just taking them a while because they had to stop for fuel and to sleep – that was good, they should be taking care of themselves, keeping energy up would be important for when they found them. Each of the thoughts only lasted for a few seconds at a time, and it was nowhere near enough, not when they almost always veered off into thoughts about all the thing’s he’d heard about while they were stuck there together. Optimistic thoughts about the team showing up turned into mental images of a burning house, or a deep well, or menacing thoughts about _John Garrett_ , a man he didn’t even know that he hated more than he thought possible. The Scot had always intended to keep his promise, to take care of his partner and stick around when things got rough, but he’d become even more determined while the dead weight of his teammate – his _friend_ – rested against his shoulder. Of all the stories he’d heard, and there had been too many, there had been a lot of people who had made repeat appearances, but he was a genius, and even exhaustion and dehydration didn’t change what he noticed. Between all the recurring characters, they all had one thing in common – they never _stuck around_. There had been family, _blood relatives_ , who had created distance instead of facing the problem; there had been a _mentor_ , someone who had _chosen_ to take on the challenge, who didn’t actually care enough to do anything other than use it to his advantage; and there was an entire organization that only knew half of the story.

          Turning his head, he looked over at the unconscious agent next to him, letting out a shaky breath. The unsteadiness wasn’t from shivering in the cold, not anymore. The scientist’s body had given up on that futile attempt to keep him warm hours before, only a little while after his partner had completely passed out. It meant hypothermia had completely set in, and the dark sky meant that the temperature was going to keep dropping for the foreseeable future. He couldn’t possibly stay awake for much longer, not when he didn’t even have conversation to distract his mind with, but he would try. If he didn’t at least try, he would be breaking his promise, and he had no right to go back on that, not when lives hung in the balance. So, he did what he could, his words coming out in barely more than a mumble while he struggled to keep his eyes open.

          “I’m sorry… this never would have happened if I’d been able to keep my promise… I should have kept you awake, or… you never should have gotten hurt in the first place… you should have just let me get hit, instead… then, you could have gotten somewhere safe, and you’d be back on the Bus, by now… I just slowed you down… we’re going to die out here because of me…” If it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t had anything to drink in almost four days and dehydration had long since set in, Fitz knew he’d have tears on his cheeks, but even without the more obvious show of emotion, his voice still broke while he continued. “Please… I just need you to wake up… Ward, _please_ … we’re going to… we’ll be out of here real soon…  if you wake up, we can start walking again… we can go back and see Marta and Vlad… and call SHIELD… and we can go home… back to the Bus… but you have to wake up first…” When there was no sign that he was heard, he could quickly feel the last tendrils of hope slipping away, and the scientist hid his face in his friend’s uninjured shoulder. Every mission the risk of going wrong, even those with proper extraction plans, but it had never quite occurred to him that his first mission without the entire team would be one of the few that actually did. The odds were supposed to be in their favor, but the universe was cruel, and death would be greeting them soon, not anyone from SHIELD. “I’m so sorry…”

          He was seconds away from giving up, what felt like less than an hour later, when he heard footsteps crunching in the snow nearby. The logical part of his brain was entirely convinced that it couldn’t possibly be someone who had to come to help them, but he was too desperate to care. Too weak to actually speak again, Fitz did the first thing he could think of to make any kind of noise, needing to draw some kind of attention toward them. Reaching over, he gave a shove to the backpack next to him, actually flinching and trying to curl in closer to Ward’s side when the metallic _clang_ echoed around them. If there was any chance of the mysterious person outside not finding them, it was gone, and he tried to weigh his options quickly. Either it was someone looking for them, and they’d be going somewhere safe and warm very soon, or it was someone else entirely, and they’d be dead in minutes. Whichever option it was, at least they wouldn’t be cold anymore.

          The Scot didn’t have much time to think about which option he preferred, because, before the figure could appear in his line of sight, he’d been all but blinded. Squeezing his eyes shut instinctively, he was asleep in a matter of seconds, the last thing he registered being the bright beam of a flashlight.

* * *

 

          Of the two rooms right next to each other at the first SHIELD facility they could get to, they were only allowed into one of them. The room on the left, with the _103_ on the door, the one they weren’t allowed to go through, led to Grant Ward, who was tucked away in a warm bed to bring and keep his core temperature up, antibiotics being pushed into his veins to fight back the infection that had developed in his shoulder. Another IV was set up on his other side to help him battle against dehydration and supply his body with nutrients. It had been three days since they’d landed, and he’d yet to wake up, but the doctors had assured them that he was recovering. They just had to stay hopeful.

          The other door, room 105, led to a very awake Scotsman. Fitz had been asleep for almost a full day, his body desperately trying to catch up on all the sleep he lost during the mission. He had his own set of IVs for nutrients and hydration, and warm blankets to ensure that he stayed at a safe temperature. Sitting up in bed, he was almost always watching the door instead of the movies Jemma brought in for him, waiting for the doctors to say it was okay for Ward to have visitors. No one on the team knew about what he’d been told in the drainage pipe, he made sure of that. They would need to know, someday, but it wasn’t his duty to tell them, he didn’t even have the _right_. It wasn’t his story to tell, so he wouldn’t be the one telling it.

          It took almost a week before anyone was allowed in room 103, and even then rules had to be followed – two people at a time, and no visits were to last longer than an hour. Skye went first, all but dragging Jemma along for moral support, and they used their entire hour. It made 105’s tenant anxious, waiting around for them to step out of the room, even if he was let out of his own for the occasion. He didn’t have to be in a wheelchair, and he was thankful for that, but that meant he was stuck in one of the chairs along the wall, not allowed on his feet in case he exhausted himself again. Normally, he would argue that standing took only a little more energy than sitting, but considering how much he wanted to pace, he understood the reasoning. As soon as the girls walked out again, the engineer tried to get to his feet, but the sight of their tears stopped him. If Coulson and May wanted to go in, he could let them go first – it wasn’t like an unconscious Ward would be a new sight for him. Actually, he’d seen more than enough of that for a lifetime.

          Before he could even get comfortably settled into the chair again, he felt a familiar hand in his, and Fitz lifted his head so that his blue eyes could meet those of his best friend. “When you go in, just remember that he’s going to be okay. Things seem bad right now, but the coma is just his body shutting down to heal. Think of it like a computer – he’s just running a few updates.” He knew Jemma was trying to keep her voice soothing, but it was just as obvious that she was trying to convince herself as well as him. It didn’t really work, but he did appreciate the effort.

          Just like the girls had, Coulson and May took the entire hour they were allowed for the visit, and with his best friend asleep in the chair next to his, he was left to go in alone. He wasn’t _afraid_ , not necessarily, but as soon as the door fell closed behind him, he was fully aware of how bad things were. They’d both nearly died, and it was only by some miracle that the person in the snow was May. The room was dim, but not dark, and the temperature was comfortable, but everything else just felt _wrong_. It was too quiet and too loud at the same time, the rhythmic beeps and hisses of the machines around the room breaking the silence too suddenly; it was too still, and he was too aware of the situation to think that Ward would wake up and fix that particular issue. Stepping closer to the bed slowly, the Scot settled himself into the nearby chair with a weak frown. The only way he could think of how to describe the situation was _a mess. None of this_ was supposed to happen. They were supposed to get in, get the device, and get out, not get in, get the device, and get _shot_. Being near death in a sewer was never supposed to happen, they weren’t supposed to end up in medical, stuck in bed for days while life went on around them.

          But the one thing he believed the most, and the one thing he should have worked hardest to prevent, was somehow also the simplest. Ward shouldn’t be comatose.

          Taking a deep breath, he shifted to sit on the very edge of his seat, staring down at his hands so that he wouldn’t have to look at his friend. It took a moment, but Fitz did manage to find his voice, even if it did sound small, swallowed up by the near silence of the room. "I'm sorry.” He paused after that, just for a moment, so that he could breathe again while squeezing his eyes shut. Apologies wouldn’t fix anything, and he knew that, but it did make him feel a bit less useless, like was actually _doing something_ , instead of just sitting around waiting for something to happen. “I still think you shouldn’t have taken that bullet for me… you could have gotten out of there okay, and this wouldn’t be happening… you would be _okay_ …” It was a terrible thing, watching a person who risked so much for him kept in bed because _he_ wasn’t trained enough to avoid danger in the field for twenty four hours. There had to be some way to make up for it, though, ideally, he wouldn’t have had to make up for it at all. “I know that what happened to you before you were on the team, or even before you joined SHIELD, isn’t any of my business… I’m not an idiot, I knew you only told me anything because we thought we were going to die… but you don’t have to worry about anything… I’m not going to tell anyone – it’s not their business, either…”

          He was quiet after that, letting his gaze drift from the bed, to the IVs and machines monitoring vitals, and back again. For the rest of the hour, he didn’t say a word, almost asleep in the chair by the time a doctor came in to let him know that his visiting time was up.

* * *

 

          There was a calendar on the wall in room 105, right next to the small television so that it could be seen easily from the bed. Technically, Fitz had been cleared to leave the facility – the doctors said he’d made a full recovery – but being on the Bus meant that he wouldn’t be able to rush next door as soon as Ward woke up, so some strings were pulled, and he got to keep his bed for a few more nights.

          The television was almost always on, thanks to the steady stream of movies and boxsets that Jemma brought him, something to keep his thoughts occupied and away from their friend in the next room. It worked, sometimes, and he was thankful for that, but it had been more than a week since they had arrived, and, thanks to antibiotics, infection was no longer a worry, so his thoughts inevitably drifted from time to time. He just wanted to know why things hadn’t gotten any better in days, and he wasn’t at all shy about voicing it while his best friend marked the current date with a red x. “There’s no infection anymore, right? So, why can’t they do anything to wake him up?”

          Her sigh sounded through the room before she even turned around to face him, and the Scot immediately sank back into his pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked the question, and she knew him well enough to know that it wouldn’t be the last. He was worried, and that was completely normal, but he could tell he was starting to get on a few nerves. “That’s not how it works, Fitz. A coma is the body’s way of completely shutting down – only vital processes are working. For almost a week, his body was still fighting. Even if he’s been sleeping – and I really only mean that word loosely – his body is exhausted. Now, he’s really recovering, and he’ll be awake again soon. You just have to let him get the rest he needs.”

          With a sigh of his own, Fitz made himself nod his head. He wasn’t at all happy with the entire situation, but he also knew it could be worse. If the team hadn’t shown up when they did, then they’d both be dead, and a coma was certainly better than that. “Right… I know…” And he did. But knowing what was best was entirely different than putting it into practice, and the lack of change in Ward’s condition only made him more anxious. It shouldn’t – the specialist had managed to fight off an infection that should have killed him, or at least made him lose his arm – but any time he slowed down enough to think about it, he could feel his stomach churning. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, SHIELD should have had a plan, but there was no doubting the cause. If he had moved just a little faster, had been more aware of everything around them, he wouldn’t have been in the line of fire in the first place. He wouldn’t have needed to be pushed out of the way, Ward wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and they would have been off on another mission with the team by then. “Hey, Jemma…? Is it okay if we don’t watch anything today? I didn’t get much sleep last night and I want to rest up.”

          As soon as she was close enough to comb her fingers through his curls, she gave him a nod of her head while offering up a small smile. Maybe he could even convince her to go back to the Bus and get some rest of her own if he played his cards right – though, her taking care of herself wouldn’t be the only thing he got out of it. “I can turn something on for background noise, you know, and go over your chart to make sure the doctors didn’t miss anything—”

          “ _Jemma_.” She was his best friend, and he cared about her, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her, but she tended to hover and become a mother hen when she worried. Normally, he would embrace it, let her dote on him for a day or two if he had a cold or wore himself down, but it had never lasted for a full week before, and he could only handle so much before it drove him a bit nutty – not that he had room to talk with his near constant questions about Ward’s condition, but _still_ , a line was being crossed. Besides, if she was worried about him, she was likely running herself ragged and not taking care of herself. Fitz was in a hospital room being checked in on every few hours, he would be just fine, but she didn’t have that luxury, and she had to actually take care of herself so that she didn’t end up in one of those rooms at the medical facility with them. “Thank you, really, for wanting to take care of me, but you don’t have to. I made a full recovery, remember? I’m only still here because I’m not needed on the Bus. Go to your bunk and take a nap, or go out and have a nice lunch while we’re stuck around here. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” As soon as she opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off quickly. “If you don’t take care of yourself, I’ll just worry about you – it will turn into a vicious cycle.”

          The next sound she let out was a sigh of defeat, and he offered up a small smile to lessen the blow of his victory. “Okay. But I’ll be back tonight to check in on you both again.” Jemma started toward the door, keeping her eyes on him with a small frown. “Just get some rest, okay? You’ve spent the last week worrying just as much as I have. You can’t do that forever.”

          “I don’t have to. He’ll be awake soon, and I won’t have to worry nearly as much after that.” The Scot had been trying to remain optimistic, really, and while he didn’t always succeed, he’d perfected making it look like he did, and that was what really mattered. As long as everyone thought that he was okay, no one would worry about him, and they could focus on more important things. In a way, a fake smile was his greatest weapon. It could mend people into thinking that he was practically invisible, and that was exactly how he liked things. So, five minutes after the door closed behind his best friend, it was exactly the weapon he wielded. While Jemma thought he was hopeful enough to stay in bed and wait for news, he did what his worry drove him to do instead.

          Creeping silently out into the hallway on socked feet, he slipped into the room next door. In bed, Ward looked like he was peacefully sleeping, just like he always was, and there was no hesitation before Fitz settled on the edge of the bed instead of in the usual chair. Normally, his secret visits were in the middle of the night, but he would take whatever opportunity he had. He’d read, somewhere, that sometimes coma patients were aware of things going on around them, that their brains could still be stimulated. It wasn’t a study, and there was no guarantee that any of it was true, but he didn’t care. Sitting there, on the edge of a hospital bed, with his fingers just inches away from his friend’s hand, he told the same story he told every night, word for word just how it had been told to him. “Once upon a time, there was a prince, locked away in an upside down tower, and he was never allowed to leave…”

* * *

 

          For the first time in far too long, Fitz was spending the afternoon laughing. There were cracker crumbs all over the chair he was sitting in, and he could feel the cheese caught on a back tooth, but he couldn’t care less about either of those things. For the first time since they’d been rescued, he was getting to have a one-on-one conversation with the man who saved his life, and it was one of the greatest feelings in the world.

          “And then, Thomas, who, might I remind you, was barely five years old at the time, shouted loud enough for everyone at the charity dinner to hear – _Grant things Christian is a piece of shit_. I got in _so much trouble_ , but it is still, hands down, the best moment of my entire childhood.”

          They were both laughing by the time the story was through, and the Scotsman was quick to speak up as soon as he had enough breath in his lungs to speak. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me life lessons? Most stories have morals.”

          He got a nod in response while the still bedridden specialist rolled his eyes. “Yeah. The moral to that one is that you shouldn’t tell little kids anything, because they will scream it loud enough for two hundred and fifty people to hear, and you will be grounded for three months.”

          Shaking his head, Fitz moved so that he could lean forward and rest some of his weight on the bed, smiling widely. “I don’t know any little kids, so that’s not really a problem for me, but I’ll keep it in mind.” For the time being, it was just the two of them again, and that was just fine with him – it meant they could talk openly, about anything, and they were using it to their advantage. At least, they had been, until Ward ran out of lighthearted stories to tell, and then the quiet that fell over them was peaceful, right up until the moment the American spoke again.

          “You know everything I’ve done, Fitz.” And there it was, the elephant in the room. He wasn’t wrong; the scientist knew everything there was to know about his past, right up into the present that included semi regular reports about the team to someone half of them didn’t even know; but that wasn’t any reason to break the calm they’d been starting to embrace. “But you stayed anyway. You stuck around, and helped me, and saved my life. Why?”

          Oh.

          Giving a shrug of his shoulders, the smaller man settled back in his chair. There were a number of reasons for why he didn’t leave, ranging from he didn’t have anywhere to really go, to _someone_ needed to stay. For whatever odd reason, _he_ was the one trusted with someone’s secrets, and, even if they were dark, and a little scary, he was going to prove that he was worthy of the honor. On top of that, Ward had proven all that he needed to – the research for Garrett was still happening, but it wasn’t a secret anymore. He gave up the only card he could have kept playing in his favor, so Fitz’s answer was a very simple one. “Why not?”


End file.
